Chapter 9 - Breach at the Gate
The secondary security alarm blared through the private hallways with a harsh, rhythmic pulse that signaled a perimeter breach at the outer service gates. In a fraction of a second, the tranquil atmosphere of the Moretti mansion shattered.
Rocco spun around from the bassinet, his hand instantly dropping to the heavy pistol resting on his desk. His face transformed from a reflective father into an apex predator locked on target.
"Marcus!" Rocco's voice bellowed through the encrypted comms channel embedded in the study wall.
"Boss, we have an unauthorized vehicle ramming the service gate!" Marcus’s voice crackled back over the speaker, punctuated by the faint, muffled pop of distant gunfire. "A black van—they bypassed the lower checkpoint by tailgating the morning produce delivery! They’re heading up the service road toward the west wing access!"
Rocco didn't hesitate. He pulled the pistol from the holster, checked the chamber with a fluid, practiced motion, and turned toward Sophia, who had slipped down from the armchair and stood calmly beside the desk, her eyes wide but steady.
"Stay under this desk, Sophia," Rocco commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Do not move, do not make a sound, and do not let go of that journal."
"Is Mama safe?" Sophia asked, her voice tight with sudden fear for her mother.
"Marcus has already secured the staff quarters," Rocco said, his eyes hard as flint. "Nobody touches anyone in this house."
He pushed open the heavy study door and stepped out into the corridor just as Marcus came running down the hall from the security control center, his assault rifle raised, his face slick with sweat.
"Mr. Moretti! It’s not the Rossi syndicate," Marcus panted, stopping a few feet away. "Our intel feed just pulled the license plate and facial recognition from the gate cameras. It’s Valentina’s loyalists—mercenaries hired through her brother’s backup accounts in Zurich before his assets were frozen! They’re trying to breach the east wing vault to extract her!"
A cold, dark fury washed over Rocco’s features. He had spared Valentina a public trial in the family court out of lingering restraint, choosing a quiet, isolated exile instead. They had mistaken that mercy for weakness.
"How many?" Rocco asked, his voice deathly quiet.
"Four men armed with automatic weapons," Marcus replied, chambering a round. "They’ve breached the outer kitchen doors—the same route the baby was taken through."
Rocco’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. They were trying to use the exact same path of betrayal to reclaim their lost leverage.
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"Let them into the service corridor," Rocco ordered, stepping forward with his weapon raised, the gold watch catching the dim light of the hallway. "Let them walk right into the trap. And when they reach the main dining hall... we show them what happens when you bring war to my kitchen."
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